The Bachelor Auction(32)
“I can name at least ten.” Brock clenched his teeth, his hangover suddenly coming back with a vengeance. “Twenty. Hell, go out of the country!”
“Brock,” Jane’s voice carried through the house. “Brock!”
Bentley and Brant both stared.
“Are you hiding a woman?” Bentley shoved Brock aside and headed toward the sound of Jane’s voice. Brant followed.
He stomped after them, ready to use any means necessary to get them the hell out of the house.
He knew was fucked when Bentley opened his mouth.
“Look who we have here,” Bentley said in a husky voice. “Shoe girl…I’d recognize that arch anywhere.” His challenging glare to Brock said it all. It wasn’t playful and it sure as hell wasn’t welcome.
Bentley loved a challenge.
He loved taking what wasn’t his.
And Jane.
Jane was his.
Well, under his roof.
Damn it.
“What are you doing here?” Bentley continued his assault, moving casually around her, his eyes lingering on her ass before he finally locked eyes with her and smiled.
“Well…” Jane blinked over at Brock, then stared back at the floor. “Your grandfather hired me to clean the house and get it ready for…” Her eyes flashed. “For Brock, so I’m just going through all the rooms.”
Brant whistled then offered her a wink. “That’s a huge job. Do you want us to help you?”
The twins didn’t even know how to do their own laundry, let alone clean a toilet.
“Bentley,” Brock snapped. “A word?”
His brother’s response was a grin. “Go ahead; I’m waiting.”
“Alone.”
“Anything you say to me in private can be said in front of Jane. After all, she’s your friend, right?”
Brock had never hated a word more in his life. “Yes,” he managed to choke out as he took in her nearly see-through white T-shirt and ass-hugging jeans. “Friends.”
“You look frustrated,” Brant muttered aloud. “I wonder if it’s the pressure of running the company, the auction, no sex…”
“I knew he would crack one day,” Bentley added. “Good thing we came when we did, right, Brock?”
“A good intervention is hard to accomplish, but we’ll do what we can.” Brant smirked and then offered a wink in Jane’s direction.
They needed to go.
Both of them.
He rubbed a hand over his injured chest, which had gone from a stinging pain to a dull, roaring throb.
Jane eyed his hand, then her eyes narrowed as a sly smile spread across her mouth. “How’s your damaged nipple, Brock? I hope the clamp didn’t tear it completely off.”
Bentley’s eyes widened with shock while Brant started to slowly clap.
“It’s not what it sounds like,” Brock said defensively.
“Isn’t it, though?” Jane flashed him a giant, fake bright smile. “After all, you were the one who said to take care of the situation. I was just doing my job, right?”
“We should have come sooner,” mumbled Bentley.
“There was a mouse,” Brock said, not taking his eyes off Jane.
“The mouse tore your nipple off?” Brant winced.
“No, the clamp did that,” Jane said helpfully.
“So you were dressed up as mice?” Bentley blinked.
“Why don’t I go make dinner?” Jane interrupted. “And you can explain to your brothers why half of your nipple is most likely gone, and how you’re going to start being nice so the hired help isn’t tempted to set up traps in your bed while you sleep.”
With that she flounced off, leaving a whiff of vanilla and sugar behind her.
“I like her,” Bentley said in a low, lust-filled voice. “Any woman who threatens me is welcome on top”—he eyed Brock and kept talking—“or bottom. As long as I’m inside, I don’t give a fuck.”
Brock slammed him against the nearest wall. “Touch her and I swear I’ll kill you in your sleep.”
Bentley held up his hands and smirked. “I knew it.”
Brock released him. “Knew what?”
“You like the maid.”
“She’s…” What? Not a maid? But she was. Not that it mattered. She was Just Jane—sweet, spicy, beautiful Just Jane, and that was the real problem.
“She’s sexy.” Brant peered around the corner. “So what if she’s the help? She’s a person. A pretty, right-in-front-of-you person. According to the press you’ll be marching toward an arranged marriage in three weeks. Why not enjoy her now?”
“Good idea. I’ll just screw the maid and then marry someone else; why hadn’t I thought of that?” The temptation to run over both of his brothers with a car had never been so strong. What the hell were they thinking? Were they always this insensitive?